


Consume Until Caught

by sarah_jehan



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Do You Permit It?, Fluff, M/M, e x r
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_jehan/pseuds/sarah_jehan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just had E/R feelings and so I wrote about them?<br/>This is just a fluffy one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consume Until Caught

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fic I had ever written, and it was named Do You Permit It a couple months back, but I changed the name 'cause cliches.... I had it published on my tumblr (esoterically-sarah) and now I reviewed it a little and put it here.

Enjolras didn't know what he expected. He knew that whatever it was, he shouldn't have expected it at all because you could expect nothing from Grantaire. Exams were nearly upon them, but here he was passed out at the back of the dormitory like it was New Year’s Day. He considered simply leaving him there, but the possibility of the boy choking on his own vomit was very real. So, he nudged him. 

"Grantaire? Grantaire, you need to wake up."

After a few moments the unconscious boy stirred unhappily. "Enj, not a morning person," he mumbled slightly incoherently. Grantaire rolled onto his stomach to face away from him and groped blindly about the floor around him, knowing there should be a bottle just within reach, and hoping desperately to slip back into unconsciousness. 

Enjolras, upon seeing the bottle took it before Grantaire could reach it, "No more. You've got class, remember?"

The cynic propped himself up off the floor on one elbow and slowly looked upward at the other. He rolled his eyes slowly and smirked. "I suppose I do, but so do you, dear leader, and yet here you are," he retorted, smugly.

The blond man reddened slightly, "Not today," he said. The truth was he didn't want to go to class. He didn't care if this meant he would never go to university. He couldn't stand another moment of the harassment he got in Religion Studies. "This has nothing to do with me. It’s got to do with you and the fact that you have absolutely zero sense of self-preservation."

Grantaire eyed him suspiciously, as his Apollo was a terrible liar, but chose to give him some space, for the moment. He grinned up at him and countered, pointing a finger up at the man, "You just have no sense of self-indulgence".

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras rationalized, "It's called self-restraint. Come on..." he began pulling Grantaire to his feet, "time to sober up."

He chuckled to himself. "C'mon, Enj," he protested, "time to give yourself a break," he stood and looked pointedly at the bottle in Enjolras' hand, “go on.”

Enjolras would normally meet the challenge with a flat refusal, but today he's got so much on his mind that the idea strikes him is somewhat appealing. Because he knew that it would shock Grantaire, perhaps even sober him up, he took the bottle and swallowed the rest. That wasn't so bad, he thinks, not thinking about the fact that he'd be a light weight, as he's never really drank before. “Do you have any more?” he asked, slightly intrigued.

Grantaire grinned, "I knew you'd give in eventually". He looked at the empty bottle, sunk to his knees and loosened a floorboard to retrieve a full hidden bottle. He uncorked it and before lifting it do his lips he whispered, "Do you permit it?" and then with a small wink added, "I'll even share".

"Hand it over." Enjolras muttered darkly.

Grantaire sighed, the smile never leaving his lips. He took a sip and passed him the bottle. "Go easy on her, alright?"

"Don't patronize me," Enjolras groaned and stubbornly took a big gulp, though the stuff burned his throat.

Grantaire laughed at the other's strained expression and took the bottle from him, "Slow down there tiger," he teased. "Now that you've loosened up a bit, why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing’s going on. Why does everyone always assume that something is going on?" Enjolras mumbled, grumpily.

"Well..." he says, trying to find the best words to use, but finding his speech to be, admittedly, a tad slurred, "you seem troubled is all, and if even I, the useless drunkard, can notice that, then it must be serious," he finished with a small smile.

"You're not useless." Enjolras uttered quietly, glaring at the bottle. "Give me some more of that, would you?"

"No. You avoided the question" he replied, withholding the bottle, cupping Enjolras' chin and shifting his gaze so that he was forced to look Grantaire in the eye.

Enjolras didn’t know what the drink was doing to him, but it certainly didn't making his problems go away. If anything, his feelings were amplified. "I don't like Religious Studies,” he finally stated, “It is a complete waste of time and brain space. I don't even believe in anything, and I'm still forced to go learn about religion for a grade. It's stupid." He wasn’t quite drunk enough to say that the reason he hated that class so much was because his sexuality was taken into question in that class, and that everyone has been giving him a hard time ever since.

Satisfied with his own persistence, Grantaire offered Enjolras the bottle and punched him playfully in the shoulder, "Maybe I'll use that as my excuse to not go to class too," he joked, in attempt to lighten the situation.

Enjolras downed half of the bottle. He's getting good at this, he thinks. The drink hit him hard then, and he found himself thinking about the injustice of the situation. "I mean- who teaches people to be closed minded? Isn't learning supposed to be about opening your mind? Nope, Religious Studies teaches you to close your mind. It's like… it’s like the opposite of learning,” he then adds, with more venom in his voice, “it's anti-learning!"

Seated next to him on a small couch, Grantaire could feel Enjolras' anger and passion about the situation. Grantaire had always admired Enjolras for his strong-hearted opinions. He took the bottle and had a sip, then deposited it on the table in front of them with some finality. "I'd say maybe you've had enough for today, Enj," he looked at him again, "you are right though. As always. There are plenty of people who allow themselves to be governed by the closed minds of those in power".

"You think I'm right?" Enjolras replied in surprise.

He smirked at him, "Don't let it go to your head"

"You're such a good friend," Enjolras murmured slowly, and then he kissed Grantaire full on the mouth.

Grantaire was stunned for a moment. After a few seconds he stood up and busied himself with putting the bottle in a cupboard. Having his back to Enjolras, he could hide the slight blush playing about his neck and cheeks. He laughed slightly, "See, I told you to slow down with that drink..." he says, as he assumed that kiss must have been a drunken impulse his leader would surely want to forget about.

Enjolras on the other hand, assumed that this means that Grantaire did not, and could not return his feelings. Grantaire! The one person whom he'd always assumed regarded him in that way. He stood up with a jolt, as if he'd been electrocuted, and he staggered backwards. There is a look of horror on his face, "You don't... I'm sorry. I'll leave you now." He stumbled into the next room.

Grantaire noticed his clumsy, swaying steps and hurried to his side to steady him. "It's fine Enj, if anyone understands doing things they don't mean to when drunk… it's me". He set Enjolras down on the couch in the sitting room and took his own place beside him.

Enjolras had gone very pale, "Don't tell anyone, R. Not even Combeferre or Courf."

"I won't...." replied Grantaire slowly, "I would never... do anything... that could possibly hurt you…" He lightly put his arm around Enjolras' shoulders, thinking that he must be regretting kissing him right at that very moment.

Truth be told, Enjolras did regret it, but for a different reason than the one Grantaire assumed. He thought that he's just proved himself to be the very thing that everyone has been accusing him of, and that Grantaire, the one person whom he thought might actually understand, had witnessed his 'freak' nature. He couldn’t stand to think that Grantaire was touching him because he pitied his predicament. 

"Don't touch me." He hissed.

Grantaire smiled at him and ignored his angry command. He left his arm easily right where it was, (right where Grantaire believed it belonged) and slowly massaged his shoulder, "Oh, come on. Enj?" he whispered softly, leaning closer to him slightly, "tell me what you're thinking" and after a short pause his smile fades and he added a desperate, "please."

Enjolras couldn't take it anymore. He lowered his face into his hands and started crying. Somewhere, buried deep within his skull, his sober self was beating his head against a wall.

As he had never seen Enjolras display such blatant emotion, Grantaire became readily concerned, "Enj? Enj, what's the matter?" He dropped his hand from his shoulder.

"Geez 'Taire... it's simply not fair! I'm just the same as everyone else in every way. Why do I have to have the one difference that matters? It's not fair."

"The ‘difference that matters’?" Grantaire was slightly confused. He suspected he knew what Enjolras was talking about, but he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet. Instead he tired to brush off the emotion from his dearest friend and said jokingly, "Enj, we all already knew you couldn't hold your liquor," he gave a weak laugh, "that difference really doesn't matter at all".

Enjolras was incoherent and continued his rant, "it makes me sick how people can go home at night and be happy with their own normal little lives when there are people out there who are suffering! It's so unfair!"

"Enjolras" Grantaire whispers, taking the man’s head in his hands, "you needn't suffer alone". He planted a small kiss casually on the corner of his mouth, flashed him a nonchalant smile, and looked away.

Enjolras was momentarily confused, "You---you mean you're a freak like me?"

"A freak? Like you?" he smiled again and cut a sideways glance and Enjolras, "there is nothing about you that is to be considered a freak, Enj. Everybody loves you," he chuckled and shook his head.

"Then, you're not...?” Enjolras was exhausted with beating around the bush, and finally gave up his ambiguity, “Grantaire, I'm gay."

The words he'd always secretly suspected, but never got up the nerve to hope for, had flowed so freely and quickly that Grantaire felt he had to rush to pluck them out of the air and commit them to his memory. Grantaire looked at his Apollo warily, "Are you sure you know what you're saying? You have had quite a bit to drink." He instantly cursed himself for that comment; why he always ruined his own hope was beyond him.

"That's why I'm drinking." Enjolras clarified. "I accidentally let slip in Religious Studies.... and now, not only is the professor purposefully failing me, but whenever he talks about sin he looks directly at me. Someone carved 'faggot' into my desk. I hate that class. And what if everyone else will feel the same way? I mean I thought I had some friends in that class, but apparently I was sorely mistaken."

"Well…" Grantaire proceeded, careful as to not let himself feel too hopeful. Just because Enjolras was gay didn't mean he had interest in him, after all, "you won't get rid of me that easily. I will always stand by your side, Enj. You know that," he watched each word, careful not to let any important emotions slip.

"Thanks, R." Enjolras sighed. He had to remind himself that just because Grantaire was going to be a supportive friend, it didn't mean that he was gay, and it certainly didn't mean that he might return Enjolras' feelings. "You're a good friend." He was suddenly very tired.

"A good friend... yes, I suppose," he put his arm back around Enjolras' shoulders; he leaned closer and noticed his friend almost falling asleep. He put a light peck on his cheek, "You're not alone, Enj," he whispered, as quietly as possible.

At his touch, Enjolras’ eyes snapped open. "Grantaire? Are you... I know this hasn't got any relevance to the way I am, but are you...? Are you entirely straight?" Enjolras yawned.

Grantaire’s heartbeat picked up slightly and he kept his eyes locked on Enjolras' face, "Perhaps not," he whispered after a moment or two.

Enjolras smiled. "I had my suspicions." 

"Shut up," Grantaire rolled his eyes at the man and chuckled, tightening his arm around Enjolras.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Enjolras sighed and turned to his friend, "You wouldn't terribly mind humoring me with a kiss, would you?"

"Again," Grantaire started, slightly impatient and leaning towards Enjolras slowly and then whispered it this time, "Shut. Up.". He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly to the ones he spent more time than he was willing to admit wondering about.

Enjolras wound his fingers into Grantaire's messy curls just as Grantaire smiled into the kiss and whispered "You know, you're a lot easier to kiss when you don't talk so much".

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. They're two cute idiots.


End file.
